Dreams for Damien

This is probably not for the faint hearted.

Dreams for Damien is a Facebook page I came across last night and after not even five seconds of looking at it, I was reduced to tears. I have literally never been so moved by a “fan page” of any sort before. It just tugged at my heart strings and on a completely serious note, I felt the need to share it with my followers, readers and fans. It also looks to raise awareness for organ donation.

How could you not? (SOURCE: Dreams for Damien Facebook page)

How could you not? (SOURCE: Dreams for Damien Facebook page)

Taken from the Dreams for Damien Facebook page:
“Damien was diagnosed in utero with autosomal recessive polycystic kidney disease and we, as his parents, were told he would not likely survive birth because neither his kidneys showed function. We were told should we choose to continue the pregnancy (as if there even WAS a choice to be made here) that we needed to be realistic and plan for a funeral. I will never forget that day and the grief it brought, however we were determined to bring our angel into this world and leave the rest in God’s hands.

Damien arrived at 36 weeks via an induction and was whisked off to the NICU without my ever seeing him, holding him or kissing him to be seen by a variety of specialists. What seemed like an eternity later I was told he looked “great” but was being transferred to another hospital that is better equipped to handle special needs kids. He came home a month later with WORKING KIDNEYS, but in need of an NG tube in his nose as he would not eat by mouth. The dr said to expect his kidneys to gradually fail and be in need of dialysis by 8-10 years of age. Well, they failed at just 4 months due to what we now know to be a wrong initial diagnosis. We discovered through genetic testing that Damien actually suffers from a much worse and far rarer kidney disease known as Nephronopthisis 3. This led to kidney failure, liver failure, severe developmental delays, poor muscle tone, an inability to eat by mouth, bone deformities and heart trouble. At 5 years old he is not potty trained, has never stood up and does not crawl or walk.

Damien has endured dialysis for 5 years now and has had more surgeries than I can count. He underwent a combined kidney/liver transplant last year, however the kidney never “woke up” and so we are back on dialysis 3x/wk, in addition to being severely immunocompromised due to the anti-rejection meds for his new liver. Damien takes 12 medications a day and is seen by numerous specialists. He gets PT, OT and Speech. Because the last kidney failed, he is awaiting another kidney transplant. While our lives are not easy, Damien is a blessing in every way possible, He is larger than life and has taught us the true meaning of love, strength and courage. We thank God every day for allowing us to care for him.

Damien’s medical expenses are numerous. With co-pays, insurance premiums, travel expenses to and from the hospital, an upcoming transplant, and many missed days of work to care for him we have decided to set up a page to allow those who wish to help offset these costs.”

If you wish, donations to Damien can be made on this link here. If not, leave a message on the Dreams for Damien Facebook page, wishing him and the parents well. God knows that a young boy so brave and strong deserves the recognition.

– by The Black Widow

Real Men Play Ice Hockey

When it comes to sport, I am hardly an expert. When it comes to checking out athletic men and judging them according to quality of skill, manliness, face and beard (where applicable), I am pretty bloody good.

Manliness is important. It is for that reason that I must blatantly exclude golf, soccer and men’s synchronised diving from the list of sports you shouldn’t be embarrassed to play. But rather than name and shame the rest of the lame sports out there, I’ll just say this: Real men play Ice Hockey. A game of ice hockey isn’t over until each player is wearing at least a little bit of O-Neg on their jerseys and another player’s tooth on a leather cord around their neck like a trophy.

Sport in nine words....

Sport in ten words….

Now, I love AFL as much as the next Aussie/female who like to perv on fit men in shorts, but I still can’t deny the obvious superiority of Ice Hockey, which is basically 12 dudes in battle gear, armed with sticks, charging up the ice and wailing on each other. It’s the purest, most delightful display of absolute testosterone just short of actual combat.

First off, let’s talk about names. Everyone in in the AFL has got names like Steve and Gary, or affectionate nicknames like Chappy, Buddy, Pods and Swanny. Easy enough to remember, but if worse comes to worst, all anyone has to do is shout out “hey mate!” on the field and 21 other blokes turn around.
In Hockey, blokes with names like Smith and Jones are up against players whose surnames use all twenty-six letters of the alphabet twice over and a few letters they made up just for fun. Turns out Tjarnqvist and Balmochnykh aren’t lunchmeats- one played for Sweden and the other was a Mighty Duck.

Then there’s the real stuff. The stuff that separates the boys from the men and the men from the ice hockey players.

Verbal abuse and rough conduct.
Footballers get warning for a first offense, 15m pentalty for the second and then get sent off the field.
Hockey players get cheered on and then someone makes a film about it starring a young Rob Lowe.

Spear Tackling (Using one’s own body to throw an opponent to the ground).
In AFL this equates to an instant penalty for the other side and can lead to suspension for the guilty player.
In ice hockey, this is how two players say hello.

Skill.
Footballers have to be strong, fast, agile and disciplined.
Hockey players have to be strong, fast, agile, disciplined and coordinated enough to do it all on skates.

The Blood Rule.
In AFL, as soon as a single drop of blood is visible, you’re done. You get to stick a jumper on and let someone massage your calves inappropriately while you watch the action from the sidelines.
In hockey, the blood rule is an incentive. If you don’t bleed just a little bit, you’re not trying hard enough.

Injuries.
No football team can survive an entire season without causalities; concussions, dislocated shoulders, fractured eye sockets and more bung knees than your average old folks’ home. Everyone gets strapped up, wrapped up and rested up, missing half a season as they watch from the locker rooms…(with the exception of Jason Snell whose career-ending snapped femur is still talked about thirteen years later).
But unlike the footballers who go home in bubble-wrap, the Ice Hockey boys just keep playing. In 1964, Bob Baun broke his ankle in the third period of the Stanley Cup final, was removed from the rink and then returned in the overtime and scored the game winning goal.
In 2008, Richard Zednik had his carotid artery sliced open by a skate and nearly bled to death rink-side, hauntingly reminiscent of Clint Malarchuk’s near death experience in 1989 after having his jugular vein slashed by a skate.
Then of course there’s Johnny Boychuk of the Boston Bruins who  continued play with a broken nose, Mark How who suffered a femoral bleed in 1980, Bryan Berard who had seven eye surgeries and continued to play, despite being classified as blind and who could forget poor Nicklas Lidstrom from Detroit who ruptured a testicle during a game?

Then of course, there’s the Game Face.

868093-matthew-pavlich → 13 year into career- still has 32 original teeth
First day on ice- leaves with half as many teeth as he came with →first day on ice- leaves with half as many teeth as he came with

So all I’m saying is that after a lengthy career on the field, most footballers retire with minimal scarring, all their teeth and both testicles intact. Hockey players retire with more fingers than teeth, probably brain damage and one functioning nostril. If that’s not manly, then I don’t know what is.

– by Blaire Gillies

5 Songs You Don’t Want Dedicated to You on the Radio

I was sitting in my bed and I recounted a time when a certain angry someone decided it would be a jolly idea to fling me a text saying “Dedicated this song to you on the radio”. At the time, I was in the mindset that we had become friends, so being full of hope and also as naive as a porcelain doll, I looked up the song. Ricochet by Shiny Toy Guns. From my understanding, it’s about a slut that bounces from man to man and messes with their minds as she does so.

Yeah... that happened.

Yeah… that happened. (SOURCE: Shiny Toy Guns – Ricochet! – Lyrics video)

At the time, I found it extremely offensive and borderline criminal; now, I laugh about it and think it’s funny that someone went to so much effort to try and make me feel bad. And, to cheer myself up, I thought about a few other songs that would’ve been worse dedications to me on national radio, such as:

Eamon – Fuck It (I Don’t Want You Back)
Possibly the most degrading song ever made in the history of music, if the title doesn’t tell you just how insulting this song is, let me spell it out for you: you’re a slut and he don’t want you back. F what he said, f your presents, f your kisses and f you’re a ho. Although, if you do have this song dedicated to you and there’s a reason behind it, you probably deserve these scathing comments. Cheaters never prosper. Remember that.

Daphne and Celeste – U.G.L.Y
Again, if this title doesn’t spell it out for you (which it should), I’ll expand on it for you: you are that ugly that there is no possible alibi or reason for you to be that ugly. With lyrical curiosities including “You walked up to me with your buck teeth a-gleaming” and “You hurt the trees feelings and the birds all flew”, you’ve got to be one bad looker to warrant having this song dedicated to you. Don’t worry though; they probably don’t mean it. Oh wait a minute. They do.

Jojo – Leave (Get Out)
I can’t imagine what you must have done to get this song dedicated to you. Oh wait. Yes I do. You cheated on your girlfriend (or boyfriend) with her/his best friend. Who does that? So, if you ever hear “Now this next song is dedicated to (insert your name here)” on the radio and this song follows, if the repetition of “Get out! Leave! Right now!” doesn’t drill the message into your head, it’s simple: pack up your things because you have just been dumped on national radio.

Stacie Orrico – I’m Not Missing You
Continuing on with the “cheating arsehole” theme, this song puts a twist on the vengeful other: they don’t miss you in the slightest. In fact, your act of infidelity has made them a stronger person and they don’t care about you anymore. Ouch. I bet that stings. I don’t know what’s the bigger zing – the fact that they are publicly outing you as a cheating arsehole, or the fact that they don’t even care about what you did.

Cobra Starship – Hot Mess
Now to end this article on a slightly better note, this song can be taken two ways: someone is falling for you and thinks you’re the bees knees, or someone is unintentionally pointing out your feral-ness. It’s how the term “hot mess” works – it’s either a huge compliment or a huge insult. With lyrics including “You think you’re hot shit, oooh, I love it” and “Stumblin’, but yeah, you still lookin’ hella fine”, there are some parts of the song you’ll have to avoid if you choose to take this as a compliment because, let’s face it, no one loves “that” drunk girl/guy.

Now that I think about it, compared to these songs, being called a slag that bounces from person to person and messes with their mind is a huge compliment; in fact, they are pretty much calling me a black widow – and boy, do I love black widows. Thanks for that song dedication, mate.

– by The Black Widow

The Nose Knows

As I sat on the train and watched a guy try to surreptitiously sniff his own armpits, I realised something: men like to smell things.  It’s their major sensory triumph.

You can't go wrong with smelling though!

You can’t go wrong with smelling though!

Take books for example. A woman looks at the cover of an old book, sees the mottled colours, feels the soft leather, the scars in the spine and appreciates the beauty of the words spilling across it’s yellowed pages.
A man picks up the old book and inhales. After a moment, there’s the shorter, secondary sniff. Then the moment of processing, where he considers the smell. Then there’s the perfunctory nod. Book smells good= book is good.

Clothes on the floor. Woman considers how many times the article of clothing has been worn and/or seen in public, looks for stains and markings, considers any wrinkles and then determines whether to wash it or hang it up again.
Man picks up socks and smells them. Socks smell fine = socks are fine.

I agree with the people who say that men have two brains; one in their skulls and one elsewhere. What I don’t agree with is that the second brain is in their pants. The only time the second brain is in a man’s trousers is if he’s sniffing them. The second brain is obviously in the nose. It’s also bigger and far more important than the brain in his head.

Head-Brain is more of a risk-taker than Nose-Brain. Head-Brain sees a sees a sign that says “Wet Paint” and forces the man to touch it. It hears a warning that says “hot surface” and of course, leads the man to touch it and man gets burnt.
Nose-Brain is much better at self-preservation. Nose-Brain is so skilled at shielding the man from potentially lethal odours like dirty nappies and rotten eggs that he rarely smells it. While the women in the room are all gagging at the smell of a fart, Nose-Brain barely registers it, and man is secretly pleased with himself for his efforts.

A man’s emotion is also linked to his sense of smell;
Man smells food, man feels happy.
Man smells wife’s perfume, man feels love.
Man smells his own fart, man feels proud.
Man smells coffee, man feels true love.
Man smells beer, man feels manly.
And so on…

Kind of explains why Voldy was an a-hole...

Kind of explains why Voldy was an a-hole…

So therein lies the major difference between men and women. Men don’t get caught up in the sight of babies, the feeling of soft kitten fur or the sound of a really romantic song. They don’t overthink first dates, fashion trends and they get stressed about religion or politics at the dinner table. They just follow their noses and everything is alright.

In short, man has nose = life is good.

– by Blaire Gillies